


this once-in-a-lifetime moon

by rpshoodini



Category: A3! (Video Game)
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Character Study, F/M, One-Sided Attraction, sakyo being bitter towards chikage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:00:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27682570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rpshoodini/pseuds/rpshoodini
Summary: “...You’ve come so far from the little girl I met two years ago, huh. Gotta polish my acting if I can no longer fool even such a daikon actress.”Izumi giggled. “Don’t worry, your acting is flawless as usual, Sakyo-san. I’m just getting better at spotting your white lies.”(Izumi phoned Sakyo to postpone their budget meeting and ended up keeping him company throughout his entire drive home.)
Relationships: Furuichi Sakyou & Tachibana Izumi, Furuichi Sakyou/Tachibana Izumi
Comments: 4
Kudos: 48





	this once-in-a-lifetime moon

“Furuichi speaking.”

“Good evening, Sakyo-san. We’re putting off tonight’s budget meeting, so you don’t have to return early.”

Sakyo averted his gaze from the road to shoot a look at his phone on the dashboard from which Izumi’s voice echoed, as if asking for an explanation. His phone’s screen flashed the director’s name innocently in return. He started tapping on the steering wheel. The engine roared when he stepped harder on the gas pedal.

“Is there a problem?” Sakyo demanded.

An anxious chuckle from Izumi. “Well, more or less...”

He was barely below the speed limit by then, but frankly Sakyo didn’t give a damn. Messy perm hair, an ugly suit covered in patches, stutters of apology... there is only one possible culprit, and the faster he gets to the dorm, the sooner he could knock some sense into their good-for-nothing manager’s thick skull.

“Matsukawa, that absolute idiot! I swear, I should’ve sold him away to pay off the theater’s debt when I had the chance...”

“No, no, you got it wrong!” Izumi yelped, effectively cutting through his chain of curses. “Matsukawa-san has nothing to do with this! A supplier just called in saying that there may be a problem with our last order, and it takes a minimum of one day to go through their data, so the soonest we’re going to hear from them is tomorrow morning. Which means, we won’t get the receipt until then.”

Sakyo raised a skeptical brow. As capable as Izumi was in keeping their chaotic theater company glued together, she’s still too lenient sometimes. That’s where Sakyo steps in. One might get away safely from her with a mistake or two, but they certainly wouldn’t escape him. It wouldn’t even matter if Izumi tried to spare Matsukawa from his rage by keeping him in the dark. Don’t underestimate his abilities when money is at stake. He could recall the expenses of the whole company for up to a month prior if it comes down to it.

He ran a quick mental calculation, but in the end, really came up with nothing that could possibly be a blunder on Matsukawa’s part. So Izumi was telling the truth, after all.

“If that’s the case... good grief, it can’t be helped.”

“But it’s so sudden, sorry for bothering you, Sakyo-san. I’ll talk to the supplier later about this,” Izumi scrambled to add.

Sensing her discomfort, Sakyo let out a sigh. He didn’t mean to make Izumi feel like she had done wrong. “I’m already on my way back anyway, it won’t make much difference,” he assured her.

“Is that so? Then I apologize for the sudden change of plans. You shouldn’t have to rush your work.”

“Don’t sweat it. Paperwork turns out to be more time consuming than expected. I wouldn’t make it in time if the meeting was to be held as planned.”

“I see,” Izumi mumbled. “You seem to be rather busy lately, Sakyo-san. Please don’t overwork yourself.”

There was a small pause, and then, “I appreciate your concern.”

The words left a strange taste as they rolled from his tongue. It seemed that he would never get used to being subjected to someone else’s worry, after who knows how many years of watching his own back. Old habits die hard, they say. Not that Sakyo could let his walls down often now, anyway, given that most of his fellow actors were barely past adolescence, and those who were technically adults weren’t as mature as they posed to be. Someone had to hold the leash with an iron fist. That role of someone just happened to fall upon Sakyo.

Moreover, it wasn’t like he didn’t want to contribute more to the theater company. To be able to stand on its stage, as an actor, no less, is worth the extra headache from doing accounting work and keeping those punks in check. Part of the reason was because Sakyo was stubborn and hardworking to begin with. The rest of it was something one wouldn’t hope to hear coming directly from his mouth; perhaps it’s gratitude for the kindness Yukio-san had showered him with, perhaps it’s guilt for plunging his daughter into this mess in the first place, but one thing he was certain of is shouldering some of Izumi’s burden is the least he could do.

 _Yet here here I am, causing her unnecessary hardship by reacting too aggressively_ , he sneered at the irony. He should make it up for her later. Increasing the budget for curry spices in next month’s expenses should be sufficient.

“Speaking of, where are you right now?” Izumi asked all of a sudden.

Sakyo brushed his thoughts aside and furrowed his brows. “Why do you ask?”

“I thought it’d be better to stay awake until you’ve got here, if you’re not very far. Coming home to an empty lounge sounds kind of lonely.”

Ridiculous. The longer Izumi waits for his return, the less sleep she’d be getting, and she might end up feeling drowsy next morning. Being the director of a theater company was no light work. He didn’t want to risk her health.

“No need. I’ve just got outta the parking lot.”

“Really?” Izumi sounded doubtful.

“Really.”

“Sakyo-san,” the undeterred Izumi insisted, and Sakyo wondered why he earned the title of Mankai’s resident stubborn guy when it was clear who possessed a stronger will among them.

“...Fine. I’m pulling into the highway as we speak,” he admitted at last, with a hint of fondness betraying the annoyed facade initially tried to show. His lips split into a smirk. “Who would’ve thought I’d be seen through by such a daikon actress. You’ve come so far from the little girl I met two years ago, huh. Gotta polish my acting if I can’t manage to fool even you anymore.”

Izumi giggled. “Don’t worry, your acting is flawless as usual, Sakyo-san. I’m just getting better at spotting your white lies.”

Sakyo grimaced. “White lies? That’s how you put it?”

“I mean, what else are they? It’s true that your methods can be quite extreme... but all things considered, they’re for the best. And your advice are always effective... even if it did take some time to go through them. Good intention masked behind harsh delivery, that’s kind of what white lies are, right?”

“Interesting,” Sakyo said humorlessly, “in a certain insolent punk’s words, apparently my ‘nagging’ are called ‘utter bullshit’.”

Immediately Izumi’s crisp laughter filled his ears, and Sakyo couldn’t help but felt a tug on the corner of his mouth as a result.He always liked her laugh. An image of her face surfaced within his mind right away, in the same way he could theoretically hear the voice of a role he was supposed to act as whilst reading Tsuzuru’s script. It made him want to ruffle her hair so badly, to cup her cheeks in his palms, to let himself be overcome with the desire to claim what he had been longing for. Sometimes, when he was feeling exceptionally selfish, he admitted that he wanted more than just being able to freely love Izumi; he desired for Izumi to embrace him, and only him, in her love, too.

It was a pitiful, and not to mention childish, fantasy that most of the time made him want to kick himself on the shin once he had sobered up later.

“Sorry,” Izumi managed to gasp out once she had got her laughter under control. “I think I’d better hang up now, I’ll bother you while you’re driving. Hm, Yuki-kun and Kumon-kun have returned to their rooms... what should I do...”

“Hold on. What do they have to do with you?”

“I’ve just finished helping Kumon-kun and Yuki-kun with their homework,” Izumi off-handedly explained. “Oh, I know! I can start sorting the fan letters from our last show, while I have the time.”

Sakyo scrunched his nose. “Isn’t tutoring those brats usually the job for Tsukioka or Chigasaki?”

“Both Tsumugi-kun and Itaru-san have other pressing business to attend tonight, and Chikage-san has disappeared from the dorm before I noticed, which left me to take their usual roles... you know the rest.”

Chigasaki? Pressing business? Those two don’t belong in the same sentence. What Itaru considered to be “urgent” just consisted of whatever kept him glued to his phone on weekends. Sakyo had no idea about what to make of Tsumugi, but the winter troupe’s leader was an honest man, and surely he wouldn’t conjure up an excuse that would disadvantage Izumi or anyone. As for Chikage, he had no qualms about him going in and out of the dorm at strange hours as long as he kept bringing in new customers and, consequently, more income to the company with his gigantic fanbase. When he wasn’t doing either, Sakyo believed it would be best for everyone’s safety (and his sanity) for him to not be present at all. So be it.

“Don’t let those youngsters give you any trouble. You’ve got your hands full as it is,” he muttered begrudgingly.

“They’re not!” Izumi argued. “If anything, helping them study gave us a chance to talk. Sharing our problems, and so on.”

“Problems, you say? Such as?”

“Ah, it’s nothing,” Izumi replied too quickly.

Sakyo’s tone dropped by an entire octave. “Spit it out.”

Izumi hesitated at first, but she eventually surrendered. “It’s nothing too important... Yuki-kun complained about the lack of costume budget and told me about a trick he learned from Azami-kun... well, you may want to be more careful about where you put your glasses from now on.”

Sakyo scowled. “Instead of looking for ways to manage their budget properly, they’re badmouthing me behind my back,” he said through gritted teeth, “damn brats.”

Izumi offered him a placating chuckle. “Take no offense. You know they didn’t really mean it, Sakyo-san, we’re grateful to have you here with us.”

Sakyo clicked his tongue. “Stupid. It’s the other way ‘round,” he said under his breath.

“Sorry, I didn’t catch that?”

“...Nevermind.”

“I was serious about being grateful, though,” Izumi said like an afterthought. “I mean, I’d rather have a loanshark yakuza standing by my side over breathing down my neck any day...”

Yakuza this, yakuza that, this yakuza ordeal is seriously getting tiring. He upheld his identity as a part of Ginseikai with a great amount of pride, as the chairman was probably the only reason why he was still alive then, but they didn’t have to make it into his whole personality. On another note, he didn’t recall ever breathing down Izumi’s neck, or being in enough proximity to do such, for that matter.

Besides, breathing down one’s neck whispering sweet nothings was never really his style. He liked to be physical and direct with his actions. He would prefer nuzzling his head completely into the crook between her neck and her bare shoulders, where he wouldn’t miss the tiniest moans escaping her lips as he presses fluttering kisses along her clavicle, while his calloused palms roam around her thighs. He wanted to discover more sides to her anew. He wanted to make her feel so good in her skin that she forgets there was ever hurt in the first place. He wanted to—

Sakyo blinked, his train of thoughts coming to a halt. _Exhaustion_ , he inwardly justified, and ran a hand through his face, waiting for the tightness around his waist to subside. The cold air blowing from the air conditioner tickled his flustered cheeks, but at least it helped. He forced himself to focus on streetlights to keep his mind from wandering.

That wasn’t very chivalrous of him, damn it. Izumi deserved better. At this rate, he wouldn’t even beat the cheap stationfront curry in her eyes.

Speaking of curry, it reminded Sakyo that he, in fact, had something to tell her.

“...Anyway, Kantoku-san.”

“Yes?”

He coughed to clear his throat. “Regarding that popular curry restaurant downtown that you said you wanted to try out, I’ve looked into their website and turns out they offer a special discount on Thursday every week. Coincidentally, I’m free Thursday evening this week, so I can drive you there, if you want.”

The line went deadly quiet for a moment. When Izumi spoke again, her voice was much smaller than before. “Um, about that, actually... I went there for lunch just this afternoon, with Chikage-san.”

Sakyo froze.

“With Utsuki?!”

“I’m deeply sorry, Sakyo-san! I didn’t know you were looking forward to it, and Chikage-san told me he has been planning to put up a review about the restaurant on his blog!” Izumi blurted in panic. “Also, by some twist of fate, the same restaurant was recommended to Tsumugi-san by one of his students, so he bought some take-outs. The curries he picked were different from what we had for lunch, though! It was fun tasting various types of curry.”

“That means, Tsukioka too...”

Izumi rambled on, getting progressively more enthusiastic with each sentence, and clearly unaware of Sakyo’s growing misery. She does have a bad habit of forgetting everything else around her once she has started talking about curry. Even through the phone, Sakyo could easily imagine the way her face lit up with excitement that he, honestly, didn’t quite share.

“That’s not all of it! Omi-kun heard of a special ingredient that the restaurant used to enhance flavor from his coworker and attempted to try it for dinner. The curry he made was just as good, if not better, than what the restaurant served! Omi-kun’s cooking skill is on par with a professional’s!”

“Even Fushimi is... I see,” Sakyo drew a deep, defeated breath as his car smoothly skidded to a complete stop. The traffic light ahead blinked bright red. Sakyo slumped forward, letting his forehead bump into the steering wheel. “Sounds like we won’t be having anything besides curry for the rest of the week...”

“It’s surprising that you remember about the restaurant at all. I mean, it was just a spur of the moment thing, and you don’t seem to show any interest in curry,” Izumi merrily said, and in his hopelessness Sakyo briefly considered forming an alliance with Masumi against a mutual enemy. “But that was valuable information you gave me! I’ll eat there only on Thursdays from now on.”

“...In the end, I’m nothin’ but a convenient helping hand in managing your and your theater company’s financial matters, ain’t I,” Sakyo murmured.

The line went silent again. Sakyo wondered if she had hung up on him and couldn’t help getting a bit irked.

“Oi, you still there?”

“Don’t speak as if Mankai isn’t yours as much as it is mine,” when Izumi finally responded, her tone was uncharacteristically stern. “You’ve been supporting this theater company from the very beginning. If it wasn’t for your efforts, I wouldn’t be here as the director, and neither would everyone else. And I won’t forget that, so don’t you dare forget about it either. We have you. You have us.”

Sakyo found himself at loss of words. The ticking of his blinker filled the silence as he made a turn to the right.

“To think this is the same girl who used to believe me when I told her not to enter the storage room ‘cause a troll lived in there,” he mused aloud.

“Please don’t bring up things I can’t remember, it’s a bit embarrassing.”

“It’s your own fault for not remembering.”

She gulped. “Okay, I apologize for saying too much...”

“Don’t,” Sakyo abruptly cut in, but left it hanging there. He exhaled, feeling the weight of Izumi’s anticipation as she waited for him to continue. To his own surprise, it turned out he had enough courage to slowly elaborate, “don’t... apologize. That’s not a bad thing at all... to be bold, that is. If it’s the Fleur Award we’re aiming for, we need you to be as upfront as possible with us, your actors, and not just me, or we won’t be gettin’ anywhere. Can you do that, Kantoku-san?”

 _For us both,_ he didn’t say. He thought he should start learning to take his own advice, but that’s not new.

Izumi hummed, voice full of determination. “Don’t worry. I will.”

“Hmph. Do your best.”

He wasn’t expecting another reply, but Izumi gave him one anyway. “That said, you know, I do see you as more than just a coworker or an autumn troupe actor, Sakyo-san,” she said, the lilt of her voice teasing.

“Huh?”

“I’ve been feeling this way since we first met, but I was too scared to convey my feelings for fear of getting turned down. Truth is, to me, you’re more than just our actor, or our accounting staff,” Izumi admitted. She took a dramatic inhale of breath. “You’re also... _the best financial consultant we could ever have!_ ”

An awkward pause ensued.

“...”

“...”

“...Oh.”

It took Sakyo one humiliatingly long minute to realize that it was her idea of a joke.

“Did I get you?” Izumi asked with a nervous laugh.

Sakyo forced a snort. “You must be kidding. With such an awful acting? No way.”

“How mean!”

Sakyo was still having trouble regulating his erratic heartbeat back to normal. Sometimes Izumi was really testing his patience. A playful jab at one’s acting skill is certainly less dangerous than a prank that may trigger a full-blown heart attack. Sakyo sighed. Izumi would never have the slightest idea of how much she meant to him.

In hindsight, he had been desperate. He was too scared of the notion of losing that he scraped for the faintest bit of her, the same way he clung onto fragments of his childhood, or a piece of crumpled o-mikuji, or the scripts from past performances that were littered in markups and notes. Memories of brighter days were the only light that helped him to survive during his time spent underground. But on stage, where he was basked in warm limelight, he no longer needed to hang onto the brittle past. No room for regrets, or even nostalgia. The show only goes on no matter what.

That street-fighting, sukeban-wearing punk was still hustling somewhere within him, after all. Like hell he’d let himself get left behind by his younger, yet equally competitive troupemates. Nor would he just calmly sit around and watch when the bunch around him seemed to have no shame in getting a headstart. He’ll tell them what: they’re still a thousand years too early, even with an inhuman resistance to spicy foods.

Ahead of the road, Sakyo could already spot the triangular roof of their dorm. As he approached the building, he thought of Azami and wondered if he had fallen asleep, he thought of Sakoda and wondered if his boisterous subordinate had tucked himself in at his own quarters, he thought of his mother and prayed that she was having nice dreams. He pondered on these sappy thoughts and agreed that maybe, maybe he really deserved to be called a naggy worrywart. Not that he was happy about it.

“Enough playing around. Hanging up now, I’m in the driveway. Now you can go to sleep.”

“Perfect timing!” Izumi yelled in delight. “I’ve finished sorting the letters as well. You should accept the honor of taking the first look at them, Sakyo-san. There are some useful feedbacks among these letters you’d be pleased to see. I’ll start making coffee for us posthaste.”

Was she even listening? The whole point of him rushing back home as fast as he could was so she would have more time to rest and recharge, he had never wished for anything bad to happen to her. He had let his dream slip through his fingers once, out of his own recklessness. He had missed on a lot of things. He couldn’t afford to lose more. The same miracle won’t occur twice.

But that’s where you’re wrong, another voice in his head interrupted. Who ever said that miracles are limited to once in a lifetime? Yes, there would come a time when the night falls once again. The moon would surely rise, and it would guide you through the dark, back home. Over and over again. Always.

It would guide him back home, Sakyo reassured himself.

She would guide him back home.

He suppressed a snicker. Indeed she had been tagging along, so to speak, albeit through the phone.

“...Sakyo-san? What’s so funny?”

“Nothin’. You asked for it, so don’t fret if I burst your eardrums with my long-ass lecture tonight. Prepare yourself, Kantoku-san,” he replied smugly, then cut off the call without much thought. This time, he knew that he truly had no fear of missing anything.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy birthday, Sakyo-san. I guess this is my offering, so please come home more often, OK?


End file.
